


Still Don't Know My Name

by honeysucklesandthorns



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Kylo Ren Angst, Kylo Ren Has No Chill, Kylo Ren Throws A Tantrum, Other, Slow Burn, Stormtrooper Culture, This Is STUPID, quarantine made me a whore for kylo ren, this is just me thriving in my disgusting mask fetish that OWNS MY WHOLE LIFE
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:47:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25005667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeysucklesandthorns/pseuds/honeysucklesandthorns
Summary: An ambitious Stormtrooper with (an unknown) dangerous grasp on the Force is transferred, and immediately becomes a little too interested in Commander Ren.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s), Kylo Ren/Stormtrooper Character(s), Stormtrooper Character(s)/Stormtrooper Character(s)
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

“Go, go!” Although in the middle of a war, this was the first time that she had been out on the field in weeks. After being transferred, her duties had primarily consisted of in-ship patrol work and training. The notice had come early that morning; all soldiers would be deployed for search and (hopefully) seizure mission. The lower ranks had clearance to only basic mission information and goals; never specific details. They were looking for someone — a girl. Anyone who stood in their way or gave them anything but utmost compliance was to be terminated.

“Pl-please…. Have mercy.” His hand stretched upwards, reaching for her. The blood ran down from his hairline in ribbons, dissolving once it reached his eyes. The Trooper tilted her head slightly and squared her shoulders to step over him. Feeling a tug, she kicked her foot backwards to dislodge the hand. The gravel crunched underneath her step, and as she noted the streak of blood on the pristine, white surface of her boot, she considered what the citizen had asked of her.

Humans had mercy, and while she was human, mercy had been replaced with purpose, with order — the First Order. Before that, she grew up knowing nothing but the Galactic Empire. Or perhaps, it was all she cared to remember. Training, serving, training. Of course, at one time, she had had a name, a birthplace, and a family if she squinted hard enough. As an adult, the identity she was given by the First Order — FN-3631 — and the missions to which she was assigned were all that mattered. Did she ever feel bad? Sometimes, yes. The First Order hadn’t eradicated all aspects of her humanity, but the security they provided was more appealing than sparing the lives of a few.

A warning dot flashed across the display — she hoisted her blaster up over her shoulder, and inhaled a strong breath. Two shots. Exhaled. She would’ve heard more of the agonising howl that followed, had it not been muffled by the deep rumble that filled the skies. Her Sergeant’s voice played through the internal speakers, alerting the arrival of the Commander. Every Trooper on the field straightened up, standing to attention. 3631 had an innate fear of superiority, though her rigid stance gave no insight to her trepidation.

As the ship landed several feet to the right of her, the wings folded upright, and a cloud of dust settled around its massive shape. The door opened with a breathy, mechanical sound, and two Troopers walked out first, taking their positions next to the platform. It was only a few seconds more before the heavy, black boots stomped down the length of the dock… but 3631 knew who it was the moment the ship landed. A giant, looming silhouette filled up the entrance of the ship, long black robes fluttering behind him. He lifted his right hand, two leather-clad fingers upright. In one swift movement, he curled them in. On his right, the solider with the orange pauldron, immediately responded, closing in the distance between them. Simultaneously, 3631 wobbled forward slightly. Her biceps felt like jello as she watched him move; the way he swept his hands back and forth, snapped his head with intent. Several soldiers lined up next to her, and she straightened up, scrambling to regain composure.

It was highly inappropriate — she knew that. It was the kind of thought that could get you suspended, or terminated. Foot soldiers had strict guidelines to follow when it came to interacting with superior officers. It was forbidden to remove your helmet and reveal your face. It was forbidden to interact with other Troopers using their “family” names… but most importantly, the contact guidelines. Stormtroopers were akin to children at the dinner table; outside of the militia courtesies, they did not speak to higher ranking officers unless spoken to. Failure to do resulted in swift and pitiless punishment. 3631 had seen one of the Troopers in her garrison mouth off to General Hux once, and then never saw him again. Rumours flew that he had been relocated, others, that what was left of him was dumped into the ejection chute.

And even with that in mind, there she was… watching Commander Ren with an intrigued, and even starving gaze. As an attempt to stop her pathetic trembling, 3631 tightened every muscle she could, pressing her blaster tightly to her chest plate. One by one, the soldiers saluted him and the closer he got, the louder her own pulse became. It throbbed in her ears like the hum of an engine.

“Sir,” she said, bowing her head as he passed. As he did with hundreds of soldiers, the Commander acknowledged her salute by giving her one swift nod as he passed by. His head turned ever so slightly, and 3631 stiffened. That was the woe of helmets; emotions were non-existent, and it was difficult to tell if anyone was looking at you, through you, or past you. From Commanders to the lower rankings of Stormtroopers like herself, the only indication was a dark strip of black. She knew he was looking at her, directly. She felt it — and when he passed her, her head travelled with him, watching as he did. Beneath her armour, she felt like every nerve had kicked into overdrive, but the moment disappeared and she wanted nothing more for him to

_Look back at me…_

Although he didn’t stop walking, the slight shift in movement made it evident that he’d heard her. His head turned slowly, scanning over the soldiers he’d just passed to find the source. Her heart dropped into her stomach. What had been an amusing trick she’d discovered in her spare time had suddenly become a dangerous slip-up. His gaze went down the line, scanning each soldier intently. 3631 held her breath, revelling in the anonymity that the helmet provided, and pleading that he’d brush it off as nothing. Surely, a Stormtrooper couldn’t have done that. Wrangling the power of the Force was something that took years of training and practise for Sith Lords. It wasn’t a cute hobby, a way to amuse herself by making fellow Troopers trip into walls or throw their blasters down the corridor unprovoked. She dropped her eyes to his fist, which had clenched in a tight ball. It quivered slightly before he unfurled his fingers, and brought his attention forward again.

The grenadier, AC-2232, turned his head, watching her as he passed as though he was daring her to step out of line. Anything to give him the excuse to bring her to her knees. The two troopers had had multiple encounters, and none of them were pleasant. Although she had recently been promoted from private to corporal and was one small step from getting her own gleaming white pauldron, she envied his. Despite the crushing weight on her chest, she waited until the line dispersed and the Commander moved out of sight. Spinning on her heels, the Trooper jogged in no particular direction. There was a cluster of mossy boulders that stood about five feet high to the right her — she veered off.

Once she was concealed behind the rocks, 3631 folded forward and took a few deep breaths, the sound bouncing around in her mask. He’d heard it, but he hadn’t figured it out. There were too many of them clustered together, he couldn’t tell where the words had come from. He hadn’t brought it to the attention of any of his officers… there was no punishment in sight.

“What are you wheezing for? Commander Ren scare you?”

She lifted her head, still hunched over. Taller than her for once, the five foot two trooper she knew only as FN-4587, stood next to her. He was a newer recruit that had been assigned to the same squadron as she, and had developed a casual kinship with. He was zippy and eager, sometimes to the point of concern, and definitely to the point of annoyance. Too often, 3631 found herself with her hand flattened on his chest plate, telling him to take it easy.“No,” she panted. “Idiot.”

He continued with his excited chatter, about how he had seen something over on the East side — all things that 3631 didn’t have the attention span for. After a few more seconds, she straightened up, readjusting herself. Her logic had been enough to pacify her, at least until she was alone in her bunk that evening. In her peripheral, a black figure zipped past, heading straight into the wooded area that lay to the right of her. She realised that it was Kylo, and he was moving quickly.

Something about the urgency in which he stalked towards the trees ignited a need within her — a need to follow him. He disappeared into the forest, and she waited, watching. Not a single Trooper, not even his Grenadier, had joined him. By direction, or hadn’t they seen him? It only took a moment of rationalising before she trotted off in that same direction. It took 4587 a few moments to realise that she had left.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

She shouted over her shoulder, quickening her jog. “Don’t worry about it! Go report what you saw to the Officer! I’m sure Commander Ren would love to hear about it. It’s probably the girl we’re looking for.”


	2. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being replaceable is lesson number one in stormtrooper culture. 3631 makes the decision to sacrifice, and gets some unwarranted medical advice. But she gets to be alone with Kylo Ren, and that's a win.

Mounds of moss squished beneath her boots as she walked. Small insects zipped back and forth, hovering just above ground level.

“This is stupid,” she murmured. “Very stupid.” She knew it and somehow, she couldn’t resist the urge to follow him, to involve herself in his personal affairs. Even equipped with her F-11D, there were beings out there that could — and would —dismantle her. Not for food, but purely for fun. Watching for those creatures, her eyes scanning across her display, taking in the atmospheric data.

As a twig snapped, a feathered creature flapped away, annoyed that its slumber had been disturbed. She hadn’t travelled very far when she spotted him in a clearing of trees. Aside from the rise and fall of his chest, he was rigid. 3631 halted, watching him. Her mind buzzed with a sensation… another life, another presence. It was hungry, and watching him, too.

As it emerged from the trees to the left of her, the creature size was revealed. It was _massive_. Something between a bear and a tiger, it towered over Kylo, its sandy-brown coloured fur bristling. One swipe of its paw would send the Commander flying. Somewhere within her memory, information about the creature resurfaced, but not enough to identify it.

The Commander didn’t seem to notice its presence; he was locked on the forest in front of him. As the beast crept towards Kylo, 3631 crept towards it. A single shot wouldn’t take it down, but several would incapacitate it. She raised her gun to her shoulder and pulled the trigger. Immediately, Kylo spun around, and the beast charged, lumbering towards him. Although she hadn’t turned to meet his momentary gaze, she felt it. The thud of the creature’s feet didn’t pull him from his trance, but the click of her blaster did? He drove his foot into the ground, and as he did, ignited his saber. An unstable beam of crimson crackled through the air as Ren charged towards the creature. 3631 fired again, hitting the creature in the shoulder. It reared back with a guttural roar, long strands of saliva flying from between its jaws. She fired again, causing its massive head to wobble, turning to find the assailant. 

“That’s right… eyes on me.”

Before it had a chance to move any further, Kylo had closed in the distance. The second of distraction was all that was needed — the fight was over. It was akin to a dance; circles of raw, red fire enveloped Kylo as he sliced through layers of matted fur and flesh. Ren was a lethal protege. As she watched him, she felt a distinct heat blossom in her core — she’d gotten what she wanted — time alone with him — and was being given a tantalising display of his power.

The blade of his saber plunged through its core, and the beast collapsed against a cluster of rocks, thick brown blood seeping out into the ground. Kylo was panting, watching the life leave the creature. An Arthbesta — she remembered. That’s what they were called. He hadn’t heard the gravelling crunching, but she had. Her attention snapped to the sound. The boulder on top shifted slightly at first, before it slid several inches.

“Uh, sir…” The weight of the creature’s fall must have dislodged it, and it was only a matter of seconds before it tumbled down. Commander Ren was in the middle of its trajectory. She didn’t know if he saw or heard anything aside from his own humiliated rage, but he didn’t definitely didn’t see the danger he was in. Troopers were disposable, replaceable on all fronts — a thought that had been hammered into them from the first day they were recruited. Both of them would be destroyed if she didn’t act quickly — her demise would just come later when her superiors found out that she’d stood by while Kylo Ren was paralysed. Blue eyes darted across the display, surveying the distances. She couldn’t push him out of the way, only protect him from the impact. Her armour wasn’t made for that, but at the very least, it would lessen his injuries. She had more protection than he did.

“Sir!” Heart racing, 3631 ran as fast her legs would carry her, the armour clattering together every time her feet hit the ground. Once she’d closed in the distance, she threw her body weight forward and collided with the Commander’s chest. They collapsed with a symphony of groans and grunts and the boulder followed, sandwiching them between it and the trunk of a moss-covered tree.

3631 screamed through her teeth as her hips were driven forward, her lower spine straining against the weight of the rock. She had taken the lion’s share of the weight, which had spared the Commander. He, in turn, had spared her with his own body. Both of them were pinned, painfully, but neither had been flattened.After the initial shock had worn off, and her breathing returned to normal. She tested for movement, placing a hand on the tree, and tried pushing against the boulder. Nothing. She already felt that the impact had crushed the rear thigh plates, but if she hadn’t, the crunching of the plastoid composite when she moved would’ve given it away.

“What… are you doing?”

The electronic voice had startled her, but it was the audacity of the question that came as more of a surprise. The helmet lifted up to face him, astonished by the question. He was staring, like a father, confused by a child’s chaotic decisions and trying to decipher the logic behind it. She’d heard he was cold, but had he really just disregarded her sacrifice? Wordlessly, she tilted her head, and stared into the void of his mask. With her hips crushed and aching, she was in no mood to reply meekly.“My… job. You’re _welcome_ , _sir._ ”

“Watch your mouth, Trooper.”

When the realisation hit that with enough pushing, he could probably use the give of her body to slide himself out from underneath her, his warning became excruciating. The boulder would crush her, and she’d bleed or starve to death.

“FN-thirty-six thirty-one req—

“Stop.”

“Sir?”

“I don’t need assistance.”

Static crackled in her ear. “What’s the problem?”

“Uh, dis-disregard. Disregard.”

She gestured with both hands to their sandwiched hips. “Unless you have a better idea, I am not capable of moving this myself. I don’t think either of us planned to spend the night like this.”

Kylo lifted his head painfully slow, his shoulders lowering.

“Quiet,” he ordered, and exhaled an antagonised breath. “It’s necessary for me to concentrate.”

All at once, there was a peculiar humming in the core of her bones. She was feeling the raw, unbridled energy that Kylo was capable of, and could do nothing but gawk. The boulder hovered behind her, dipping up and down slightly. She could see the muscles in his arm straining, quivering with the exertion. A guttural sound that sounded more man than machine came from within the mask, and the boulder was thrown off amongst the trees.

As soon as the weight lifted, her knees gave out, buckling forward on either side of the Commander’s calves. Unable to regain control of her legs, she slid helplessly down his torso with a confused whimper. Her tendons and muscles felt like they had been ground to a jelly, and heat bloomed across the underside of her thighs. She could feel the cuts, and what would soon be heavy bruising.

She fell backwards, knees still bent. One leg kicked out, but the other remained tucked underneath her. She wouldn’t last long in that position, the ache would become too much to bear in a matter of seconds.

“Maybe I should call…”

_Thud._

She bent her neck, lifting her helmet. Kylo’s body had hit the forest floor, and he laid on his side. “Sir?”

A few deep breaths, and several grunts later, 3631 had flipped herself on her stomach, relieving the pressure in her right knee. The daylight was fading quickly. Whatever creatures shied away from the sun would soon shake off the sleep and take to the forest to find sustenance. 3631 didn’t want it to be her. Panicked, she tucked the fingers of her right hand underneath her bicep, pinching it as tight as she could and pulled. The glove slid off and fell beside her, where it would stay until a scavenger discovered it. She reached behind her with her exposed hand, and felt around the bodysuit for the moisture. The pads of her fingers awoke a hissing pain as soon as she applied pressure to the gashes.

“Sir!” she whined.

No response. His broad chest rose and fell with breaths — he wasn’t dead. Just out cold.

Getting into the push-up position, she brought one foot up. Not too bad. She put both of her hands atop her knee for leverage, and tensed the muscles in the other leg. That one provided more resistance, forcing her to drag it forward. Slowly, she bent it, and suppressed a scream. The flayed skin opened, and the hough was wet with blood again.

Ren wasn’t far, but each step stung. After she’d lowered herself, she scooped her arms underneath him, hooking them into his armpits and begun dragging his dead weighted body back the way she’d came. She bellowed out a cry. Pain exploded in her hips. She wanted nothing more than to let go of him, and splay herself out on the spongey forest floor. But she couldn’t.

She’d drug him as far as the clearing before her body gave out. She fell backwards against the mossy trunk of a tree, taking Kylo with her. He lay between her legs, helmet lolling against her waist. She whined through her teeth before activating the comlink. “FN-thirty-six thirty-one requesting assistance. Edge of the forest. I can’t go any farther. Commander Ren has been injured.”

“ _Alright_ , stay where you are. We’ve got your coordinates.”

It took all of five minutes for the troopers to flood the area. Seeing a trooper and Kylo Ren in such a casually romantic positioning was understandably confusing, so 3631 had explained what had happened through laboured breaths. Vitals were checked, carrier options discussed. Anxiety and uncertainty buzzed amongst the soldiers, unsure of how to deal with the unconscious commander. There was protocol, but training and experiencing were two different entities.

Someone helped her off her feet, and waited as she steadied herself. She craned her to neck to watch as Kylo was laid on a cot, his arm dangling lifelessly off the side.

“Get him inside!”

“Medical?” The droid beeped, passively.

“No, I’m fine. Rear uniform damage.” The blood seeping into the bodysuit told a different story, but showing weakness after such an ordeal would only humiliate her further. She wanted a bed, and maybe some bacta gel.

“We’re loading up. Captain’s orders.” The hand of another officer came down on her forearm, but it brought no comfort. “Report to the resource division, we’ll get a new uniform assigned.”

She nodded stiffly, and the officer marched up the ramp. 3631 followed, but far more laboriously than the Officer had. Despite her slowness, no one asked what had happened. Kylo Ren had been injured, and that was far more important than any explanation.

—

Her helmet had sustained a few minor scuffs, while the lower armour had been almost completely obliterated. The techs didn’t need a multi dimensional scan to determine that. Freshly transported from the _Supremacy’s_ production bay, 3631 had been provided with a new set of body armour within two hours of returning to the _Starkiller_ base. Given the concern of performance issues, she was relieved of any maintenance or patrol for the evening, and retired.

It wasn’t the first night that Kylo had joined her in her bunk. For the past three weeks that she had been in this troupe, 3631’s mind had been filled with thoughts of him. She’d seen him twice. One, at a ceremonial promotion for an officer. Another, in passing in one of her patrols on the ship. Every night, after the armour had been shed, Kylo, in all forms but physical, had been with her. Some of the thoughts were innocent, while others were decidedly not, and drove her to slip her small, slender fingers into the waistband of her sleep pants.

That evening, Kylo joined her in the form of fear. She laid back on her bed, her breath coming out in an agonised groan as the cold, weighted hands of anxiety came down on her chest, and wound themselves up her neck. The questions flew back and forth. The hands squeezed. _Why were you so stupid to Force connect with him? Made a fool of yourself trying to save him._ Tighter. _Why did you do that? Idiot. He probably could’ve saved himself._

Once she’d fallen asleep, Kylo wasn’t a part of her nightmares. Memories flooded, flickering in and out. _A young girl, frustrated amongst other children. Training, testing. It was an honour to train with someone like him. Humiliation. Confusion. Bitterness._ 3631 tossed in her bed, jostling the images away.

The next morning, while in the dining hall, she’d learned two things. Only one of them elicited any emotion from her. One of the soldiers, AC-2322, that had accompanied Commander Ren yesterday, had been gunned down by a rebel fighter yesterday. Two; an Officer had approached her as she exited the hall, informing her that she were to report to General Hux.

She hadn’t bothered to eat breakfast after that.

The door hissed closed behind her. General Hux stood, peering casually at the three-dimensional display in front of him. To the left, two officers, and to his right, the lustrous tower of a woman that the First Order called Captain Phasma. She was the first to acknowledge her; the silver helmet turned away from the display.

“Ah, the bravest Stormtrooper.” Her rich, resonant voice brought no comfort, despite its regal cadence.

“C-Captain,” she replied, swallowing. 3631 took her words as a jab, whether it was intended that way or not. Captain Phasma had one of the most frightening auras of anyone on the ship — at least that she’d met. Her height certainly added to the intimidation, but the confidence in which she carried herself made stepping out of line that more unappealing. Having to see her routinely for evaluations was enough, nobody wanted to have to report to her division for punishment.

As much as he wished he was the intimidating one in the room, General Hux brought little to the table. The tightly wound arrogance and thirst for perfectionism that he possessed was nauseating at best. His pale complexion seemed to absorb the glow of the holograms, making him look sickly. After a moment of silence, 3631 quickly realised that the display in front of them was in fact her records — her complete psychological profile, every mission she’d been apart of, her correspondences, her transfers, even a three-dimensional scan of her body.

“FN-thirty-six thirty-one… you understand the severity of your actions.”

“Yes.” Nervously, she brought her boots closer together as an attempt to straighten herself further. “Yes, sir. Soldiers are not to converse with superior officers unless directed,” she started. Her helmet swept back and forth, addressing both Phasma and him. “But, Captain… General, he would’ve been crushed by the tree, I was only trying to sa—

“Commander Ren would like to speak with you.”

She lifted her head. “Wh-what?”

Hux rolled his eyes. He hated several things in life, and wasting time in repetition was one of them. “Report to his quarters immediately. You’re dismissed.”

“I —

“Thirty-six thirty-one,” Phasma sneered, disgusted that she had dared to stay any longer. “You are _dismissed._ ”

—

“WHAT!?” FN-4587 shouted, echoing against the corridor. 3631 responded by elbowing him hard enough to send him into the wall.

“SHH! Shhh. Idiot. Don’t alert the whole god damn ship!” The immaculate passageway was empty, all other troopers assigned to their respective patrol locations, but she took no chances. She was grateful they were alone, because she could limp freely.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” he snapped. “I’m just saying… if you get relocated, or killed… you’re my only friend. What will I do?”

The audacity. “Oh, right _poor you_ if _I_ get choked out by Ren. _Poor you._ I’m already half dead… a stormtrooper with a limp is an abomination.”

“Just… don’t upset him.”

“FN-3631.”

They both froze. Three troopers — officers, at that — stood shoulder to shoulder in front of them. 4587 cleared his throat, and did his best to lengthen himself.

“Come with us. No, no… not you. _Her_.” 4587 had stepped forward, but lurched backwards, and 3631 felt the anxious waves rolling off of the kid.

Sighing, she gestured down the hall, encouraging them to lead the way. In resentment, they both lowered their helmets. One of them stepped off, moving behind them. She straightened her back, knowingly.

“Just comply, FN-3631. Commander Ren wants to speak with you, and you’ve stepped out of line enough recently.”

 _Stepped out of line? Is that what we’re calling that?_ She scoffed, but fortunately for her own ass, the amplifier turned it into a crackle. “Is this really necessary? I’m — “ The butt of the blaster tapped twice against the plastoid, urging her forward. “Really?”

“Move along, Trooper. Aren’t you supposed to be on the patrol deck?”

“Yep.” He clattered off down the hallway, tossing her one final nod of encouragement. 

As they walked towards Kylo’s quarters, 3631 could only contemplate what awaited her. Suspension? Transfer? Death? Would she end up like one of the control panels that had been dissected by Kylo? The airlock doors hissed open, and the troopers urged her inside.

Just the two of them. It was the second time they’d been alone together, except this time, they were truly alone. Secret decisions, plotting discussions were held behind these walls, and unless the owner ordered someone in, they’d be alone.Kylo stood on the opposite side, in front of the bay window, hands at his side. The stars zipped by, little pin pricks of light as they floated weightlessly by.

“You wanted to see me, Commander.” She murmured, damning herself for how meek she sounded.

Kylo turned his head first, and his body followed. He had closed in the distance, and 3631 felt no less threatened than she had before.

“Your injuries…” He towered over her even with the slight platform of her uniform’s boots — at least another foot. The temperature gauge within her mask beeped dully; her internal temperature had risen by two degrees. The heat in her core was back. This time, it had trickled further down her body, settling in a puddle between her legs. As he circled, she could hear the dull hiss of his breath coming from the synthesiser. She wanted to lean backwards as he passed, but remained stiff. “How are you healing?”

She looked down as though she had forgotten, and could see the injuries through her armour. Her lower spine and hips hadn’t stopped aching, sleep had brought little relief. “Your body…” She cleared her throat. “Most of the impact was balanced out. Just cuts and bruises….. _sir_.”

“A visit to the med-bay would assist in your recovery.” 

Concealed by the mask, she rolled her eyes. Despite her nerves of being in his presence, she was wholly unamused that the horrific punishment Hux had implied was actually some obvious medical advice. _Uhhh, from Hux and-and his attitude to the Troopers that strongarmed me here, to now the Commander… I was summoned to be told that the med-bay will help my healing? Right._

“I’m fine.” she barked.

He stood, motionless in front of her. Uncomfortable with his silence, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, doing her best to minimise the whinging protest of pain.

“I said... to med-bay.” His mechanical voice was equally as sharp as hers had been, if not more so, and it sliced through every layer of the weak self-confidence she thought she had built. The weight of his presence was suddenly heavier; he stiffened, towering over her. She was barely able to suppress the trembling that commanded every one of her muscles, and instead, took one step back.

“With all due respect, was that all, sir? I’ll stop by the med-bay this evening, at your urging. Otherwise… I don’t want to waste any more…” She stuttered. “Any more of your time.” 

He only seemed to consider that for a nano-second before answering. “That is all.” As quickly as he had approached her, he spun back around, returning to the window. “You’re dismissed, thirty-six thirty-one.”

Even though he couldn’t see it, she bowed her head and slipped through the doors. She turned sharply, marching down the hallway in what felt like a walk of shame. She had said that evening, but she had begun rage walking towards the med-bay almost immediately. The journey wasn’t a long one, but it gave her ample time to wallow in her own humiliation. What had she expected? Clearly something other than medical advice.

—

The medics were some of the only individuals that ever saw Troopers for what they were; fragile humans. Within the dark grey panelled walls of the bay, the medics saw tears, laughter and everything in between. No family names, still numbers, but they were humans who could be injured, and repaired. Lately, the command shuttle had only one human medic on duty, Nurse Lantha Thalcorr. The others had been replaced nurse droids of varying sizes, and specialities.

“Brave,” she said, without looking away from the screen. The droid’s scanner continued over 3631’s body, sweeping along the curve of her leg. 3631 was almost entirely naked, laying on the cot in nothing but her underwear. She had checked in, and had been immediately admitted; no one else was there. Unlike her, they had all reported their injuries promptly yesterday.

“Anyone would’ve done the same thing.”

The nurse looked over, her soft, marbly complexion glowing under the light. “You’d be surprised at how many wouldn’t.”

3631 had felt Thalcorr’s eyes sweeping delicately over her body, and felt warmth envelop her. She lifted her head from her forearms, and looked behind her. “If I didn’t, I’m pretty Ren would’ve had me killed.” 

The medic laughed; a warm, airy sound. Their eyes met for only a moment before Lantha’s attention returned to the display. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing he’s done. I’d advise you to focus on the fact that he sent you here. A touching sentiment from someone like him. Lay still - commence extraction and suture protocol, MD.”

 _Touching_? An icy spray coated the backs of her thighs. She didn’t feel the droid’s thin metal fingers as they sliced open her flesh and slipped in to retrieve the shattered pieces of composite. _Touching._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the 30 people who have read this, haha. If you enjoyed it, please let me know. I'm always open to comments/suggestions!


	3. Dismissed

The droids had extracted four splinters of composite from the backs of her thighs, and stitched up a three inch laceration on her lower back. The sutures had been slathered in bacta gel and bandaged up tightly. Underneath the bodysuit, she felt like a mummy and the bandages were beginning to itch. Although the level of medical care that the droids provided was unparalleled by anyone else in the galaxy, there was nothing to be done about bruises that ached with every step.

Mercy was a rare thing in the First Order, and a day of rest was generous. Almost suspiciously so. The following morning, she’d been assigned to patrol the arrival bay. Boring work, unless something was happening. In between raids or attacks, the arrival bay was almost desolate. Droids zigzagged across the mirrored floor, and occasional announcements echoed from the control room above. She wasn’t complaining though, it was better than being assigned to the laundry hall, or janitorial work.

She paused, looking out across the floors. At the right angle, the stars could sometimes reflect on the polished surface, turning the tiles into a walkable galaxy. "FN-thirty-six thirty-one...!" She jumped, spinning around at attention.

“Just the trooper I wanted to see,” Phasma purred, gazing down. 3631 tilted her head back to look up at her, silently hoping to never be the Trooper she wanted to see again. “Seems you’ve made quite an enemy in Kylo Ren, thirty-six thirty-one. I couldn’t be more disappointed — I supervised your training myself. Cardinal has always spoke very highly of you. Of your capabilities.”

Was her aptness being questioned? Was that a dig to their shared past? She didn’t understand, and was unsure if she was supposed to respond.

“Did the tree crush your throat, or have you just elected to ignore me?”

“P-uh, I… I’m not sure I follow, Captain. I’m sorry.”

In silence, her chrome helmet tilted, the overhead lights reflecting off of it. There was a rumour that Phasma had forged the suit herself, out of the remains of Brendol Hux’s ship. No one dared ask her about any of her business, so it remained a rumour. Before she could speak, Hux’s nasally voice came over the comlink, shattering their discomforted stand-off. Phasma looked up and away, listening to the words he spoke. Finally, her attention returned to the Trooper, and she began striding away. “Walk. Being summoned twice in two days is never a good thing. Even if you were ready to die for him.”

Underneath her disparaging words, 3631 sensed curiosity, and perhaps even defensiveness from the impenetrable leader. The thought flattered her that Captain Phasma, one of the most feared women in the First Order was feeling as though her toes were being tread on.

“As far as I’m concerned, you could’ve been left in the woods to rot. But,” she said, her clipped, tight accent punctuated by the determined thud of her boots. “If I can offer you any wisdom, conduct yourself _properly_ when in his presence. His temper is volatile.”

Phasma rounded the corner, and 3631 followed, her tail between her legs. Respect was a fundamental in the First Order; all young recruits are taught nothing but from the moment they’re brought on. Something about Captain Phasma not only demanded respect, but took it whether you were willing or not. She trained underneath both Captain Cardinal and Phasma, but had very few personal interactions with Phasma. One always jutted forward in the Trooper’s mind; it had ended in her a mess on the floor of the training facility.

“GU-HH!”

3631 stumbled backwards, hitting the wall. She tasted iron, and felt the warm droplets running from her nose. Her short black hair fell in damp strands around her face, some pieces stuck to her forehead. There was a deep ache in her abdomen, where Phasma’s armoured forearm had made contact.

“CAPTAIN!”

Phasma lowered her baton, and they both turned their heads. 3631 recognised his voice almost immediately; Captain Cardinal. He strode towards them, wearing his crimson armour proudly. 3631 drew the back of her hand across her nose, smearing the blood across her cheek. The skin of her face burned; from humiliation or injury, she wasn’t sure. Cardinal’s helmet tilted down, looking at her. Embarrassed, she lowered her head.

“They’re new recruits. Why is she training with a Z-Six?”

Phasma looked down at the girl, completely unfazed by her current piteous state. “Hm. Is she not capable, Captain Cardinal? Last week, your report showed her as one of your most promising pupils.” 

Cardinal considered her words for a moment, uncomfortable with insulting his own judgement, or the young Trooper, whose skill was undeniable.

“Just take it easy, Phasma. They aren’t getting divvied up into riot control just yet.”

Cardinal had been the preferred Captain among the young recruits — and that day had only solidified 3631’s admiration for her superior. She favoured his methods, and the positive reinforcement which he dished out to his trainees. Captain Phasma offered nothing but ice, bite, and the constant extraction for performance. Some had said that Phasma’s cruelty stemmed from her unwavering loyalty for the First Order, and was was something she’d possessed from the beginning. Others spat hateful contradictions, claiming that she was rotten beneath her polished armour.

Once the door opened, Phasma stepped over the threshold, and nodded for 3631 to join her.

Kylo was facing the window, feeling no need to address them. He sensed they were there. Phasma stood at her side, and again, the humming sensation of her energy flooded 3631’s consciousness. She turned her head just enough to widen her peripheral. Phasma adjusted herself. Discomfort. What was happening?

“Commander Ren,” she said. “I’ve brought you FN-thirty six thirty one.”

Silence, until finally, he barked out two words.

“Leave us.”

She expected nothing less, but her curiosity was strangling her, and made his demand deliver a devastating blow to her ego. Three rankings in one room, and she was not the highest. She had no choice but to obey. She squared her shoulders, pivoted on her heels, and exited, but not before giving the trooper a small shove.

“How are you healing?”

“The medics removed four slivers of my suit from my thighs. The pain has lessened considerably. I’m healing well. Sir.” 

“I trusted that you would.”

He still hadn’t turned around. His hands were still clamped behind his back, body rigid. Even against the frightening expanse of the galaxy in front of him, his silhouette was still intimidating. Intimidated… but anger bubbled in the pit of her stomach. Another pointless meeting — what would it be this time? Was he going to recommend a particular ointment next? Perhaps to change the bandages nightly?

It was maddening to her that she couldn’t feel anything from him. No readings, no indication of his thoughts. She cleared her throat, and took one step forward. _Okay, okay._ _This... is absurd._

“Commander Ren,” she started, taking two more brave steps forward. A critical error, because as soon as her foot came down on the tile, everything stopped. Every muscle was tensed to the point of quivering, and although she tried, she couldn’t move — she was paralyzed. Her eyes darted down _._ Ren’s hand was out, palm facing her.

As he turned to face her, she struggled to speak. His steps were deliberate, and the immobilising grip on her remained, causing a deep sting within her muscles. She felt him. He was inside of her mind, rifling through her thoughts. Every word that was about to fall from her mouth, he heard. It was a horrible sensation, the way he dug through her consciousness, and made her feel nauseous. She whined, desperately trying to shut whatever doors she could. He stopped a few inches from her face. Ren nodded, urging her to speak. Her muscles finally went lax.

“I... I wasn’t — “

The tightness returned and she struggled to finish. “—wasn’t trying to be disrespectful!”

He dropped his hand, and she slumped forward, taking a shaky breath. Her hands flew to her neck instinctively, as though massaging the cushioning of the seal would alleviate some of the discomfort.

“I’m suh-sorry. I... Ijust wanted to know why it feels like I’m being punished for saving your life. You, General Hux... even— even the Captain Phasma seems like she wants to throw me off the ship. A ‘thank you, move along’ would’ve been fine.”

He seemed to consider that for a moment, but his helmet obscured all expressiveness. Whether or not he was irritated by or agreed with her statement remained unknown. Her muscles weren’t locked up again, so that must’ve been a good sign.

“They’re disappointed. You foiled a handed opportunity of my death. Something…they lay and wait for. It was perfect, and _you…_ snatched that away from them.”

As quickly as he had closed the distance between, he turned away, his robes wrapping around him. With a compressed hiss of air, the helmet was lifted off and set on the table next to him. This wasn’t special treatment; many had seen his face. Kylo often walked around his ship sans helmet, and in doing so, lost absolutely none of his threat. She hadn’t, and wished it had stayed that way.

His head turned first, and his body followed. As he strode towards her, she tensed up — willingly this time. Mere inches from her own helmet, he asked, “Why don’t you want me dead?”

Too busy with the visual in front of her, she almost hadn’t heard the question. He had tousled black hair, that fell to his shoulders. And his face… his face was like stone that had been sculpted by crashing waves, composed of strong, breathtaking features. 

He was close to her. _So_ close. She could see every freckle that dotted his skin, the colour of his eyes. His full, pink lips pushed forward slightly as his jaw clenched, waiting for her answer.

“Uh…”

Kylo straightened up, his dark eyes flittering towards the bay door. As if he had summoned it to do so, it slid open with a hiss. 3631 didn’t move; her head was buzzing and she was too focused on the way he moved his mouth when he was thinking. Full…

“Sir!”

3631 finally jumped backwards, ripping herself away from the Commander. Hux cleared his throat, knowingly. There was a pattern forming; Kylo and herself being found in compromising positions by superior officers — and she didn’t like it. _Or maybe it’s the threat of punishment for these positions…_

“Your presence is _requested_ by Supreme Leader.”

Although she sensed he wanted to, it was clear he was unable to argue. Kylo returned his attention back to her, and sucked in his cheeks as he swallowed. “You’re relieved for the day.”

Grateful for the release, FN-3631 nodded once and before she allowed herself to get sucked back into Kylo’s atmosphere, she dipped out the door. She turned, just long enough to see him glance at her before lifting his helmet above his head. Her suit was suddenly very small and very hot; she felt the sweat dripping down her forehead.

 _Dangerous,_ she thought as she strode towards the solider quarters. Her hands were shaking, the muscles in her biceps were spasming. _This is a very dangerous game you’ve started._

Later that night, in the training facility, the sounds of mingled breaths and grunts could be heard. Some had finished their patrols for the day, and used the gym to wind down, while others — like 3631 — used it as a means to keep her mind off things. Her hair was damp at the base of her neck, the sweat ran down her chest in ribbons. Trooper culture meant making the most of days off — if you weren’t sweating in your armour, you may as well be sweating in the training facilities. Besides that, a good workout was an excellent way to release some tension.

She set the barbell down, and reached for the water pack. Taking a seat on the soft foam mats, she took a long drink, not caring that the water was spilling from the corner of her mouth.

“Aren’t you the one who saved Ren?”

 _Can’t get away from it. Shit._ Huffing out an annoyed breath, she brought her knees to chest, and wiped the water from her chin. “Yeah.”

“Lots of talk about you lately.”

He was of an average height, tan skin and short cropped brown hair. For all she knew, she could’ve trained next to him, but she didn’t recognise him. Didn’t care to, either.

“Don’t care.”

“Why?”

She lifted her brows. “Why what? Why don’t I care?”

A scoff tumbled off his lips as he leaned one shoulder into the doorframe, flipping the towel over the other shoulder. “Why’d you save him? Why bother?”

A vocoded whisper filled her brain. _They’re disappointed. Something they lay and wait for._ Kylo had been right. Her altruism was baffling to them, because not only did most of them see no need to protect him, they went as far as to act in negligence to endanger him.

She blinked. “I would’ve had to report it one or another. Saying he was alive looked like a better option for me. Negligence and selfishness are two thing the First Order doesn’t like hearing about.”

He seemed confused by her answer, but shook it off. He grabbed a towel from the rack before heading towards the door. “Sounds like kissing ass to me.”

She laughed through her nose, exhaling hard.“You’re going to trip on the way out,” she murmured.

“Yes, I am.” His feet tangled beneath him as the door slid open, and his face hit the glassy floor with a wet thud. He threw a humiliated gaze around before getting to his feet, and disappearing around the corner. Once the silence had returned, she returned her gaze to the absorbent mats in front of her. Turned off by the idea of having to discuss her reasoning with any other prying minds, she headed back to her quarters.

To maintain anonymity and order, off-duty troopers were not to venture to the upper decks. Instead, they travelled in the mid-clearance areas; training facilities, cafeterias and soldier quarters. It was normal to see faces, though 3631 still felt naked without her helmet. She marched quickly through the corridors as though she’d be punished for being there.

She stopped walking. Something was off — like someone was watching her. Turning her head just enough to widen her peripheral, she confirmed the corridor was empty. It felt like someone had opened the exit, and the vacuum was sucking her backwards — except she wasn’t moving. She was rigid, bristling. There was a tension that settled deep in her bones, and her mind felt fuzzy — almost like when Kylo had been rifling through her mind like a manual. She remembered what it had felt like to have the force of his hand around her throat as it squeezed the air out of her lungs. She closed her eyes tightly. _Where was she?_

Everything in her told her turn around, and to look again — but the fear that had begun to boil in her gut told her to open her eyes and look forward. A chill ran up her spine, and she swatted away the notion that someone was behind her. _Dehydration. Something. You’re not afraid, open your eyes._ In front of her, the empty corridor, the sealed doors — hers was seven down, on the left. Nothing had changed. The pull that she’d felt had disappeared, but the sensation of being watched hadn’t. With her hands balled into fists, she moved as quickly as she could without running.

She furiously jammed her finger into the button, nearly leapt over the threshold and held her breath until the door slid shut. The night crawled by, but by the time she’d fallen asleep in a puddle of her own sweat and pleasure, Kylo Ren’s image was burned into her mind — no longer his helmet; the frigid, impassive demeanour he presented to the majority of the galaxy, but the face beneath.

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, this is just some ridiculous idea that I had, because I wanted to see Kylo and a stormtrooper having a thing, and there were hardly available for me to get my fix. quarantine really made me drool over kylo, so enjoy this, I guess?? ps: the "girl" in reference may or may not be Rey, I haven't decided but this is definitely an AU / view on things and I'm not going to be too much of a stickler for timelines currently. thank you to everyone who reads / comments! If I have any comments, I'll reply to them in the next chapter!!!


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